


Blue Skies

by hawksonfire



Series: Mandatory Fun Day [8]
Category: Marvel
Genre: Boys Kissing, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Deaf Clint Barton, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Naked Cuddling, POV Clint Barton, Protective Clint Barton, Road Trip, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, cuddling after sex, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-04-05 05:42:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19042279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hawksonfire/pseuds/hawksonfire
Summary: It's not like Clint wasexpectingto run into the Winter goddamn Soldier in one of his safehouses. He's not exactly complaining, because the guy is fuckinghot, but still. A road trip with the brainwashed supersoldier from the '40s is not how Clint was expecting his week to go.





	Blue Skies

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [ this week's ](https://mandatoryfunday.tumblr.com/post/185190879219/mandatoryfunday-okay-winterhawklings-this-week)Mandatory Fun Day prompt. 
> 
> It's pretty much just gratuitous porn.

It’s not like Clint was planning to go on a road trip with the fucking Winter Soldier, alright? But he happened upon the guy after that whole kerfuffle in DC in one of his safehouses (which kinda freaks him out because that means it was a  _ Hydra _ safehouse and Clint doesn’t want to think about the missions he ran while using that safehouse, no thank you, he does not) and the poor fella just looked so damn  _ lost _ . 

Clint’s always been a sucker for a lost cause. Case and point, Natasha. 

So when he tossed his duffel into an old beat-up pickup truck and swung himself into the driver’s seat, he only let himself regret it for two seconds before he leaned out the window and said, “You comin’ or what?”

The Soldier’s eyes had twitched and he had tossed his bag in the back and climbed into the passenger seat without a word - and he then continued to not speak for a full four hours. Honestly, he nearly made Clint jump out of his skin when he said, “Sustenance required,” out of the fucking blue.

“How long has it been since you last ate?” Clint asks as he maneuvers them into a parking space.

“Sustenance was last required one week ago,” the Soldier says, and Clint blinks.

“That’s messed up.” He walks into the crappy little diner and promptly orders two of everything on the menu, plus a metric fuckton of coffee. He slumps into a little corner booth and waves a hand at the empty seat across from him. “Take a load off, rest, I won’t bite. Unless you ask me to.” He winks. The Soldier stares at him, which - fair. Clint tends to use flirting when he doesn’t know what to do. 

“Why are you assisting me?” The Soldier asks.

Clint shrugs. “‘M bored, mostly. Cap and Tasha don’t need me right now, and I was just gonna laze around until the next world-ending event, probably in my underwear. So you did me a favour, actually.” The Soldier looks bewildered and Clint has to hold back a laugh. “So, you got a name, or am I just going to keep calling you Soldier forever?”

The other man blinks and slouches down in his seat. Absently, Clint thinks that he’s really glad the Soldier had showered and dressed in civvies before they left - he’d hate to have to explain the Murder Outfit to civilians. 

“The man on the helicarrier called me Bucky,” he says slowly.

“Yeah, well, I’ve been called lots of things by lots of people, but my name is still Clint.” 

The waitress comes by and unloads the entire kitchen onto their table, then promises to check on them in a few minutes. Clint starts stuffing his face with the food - it’s actually not half bad. He’s had worse, anyhow. While he chews, he keeps one eye on the Soldier, who appears to be deep in thought. 

“You can call me James,” he says it like he’s testing the word out on his tongue.

“Sure,” Clint shrugs, “Hi, James. I’m Clint. You gonna get some food?” James looks down at the table and slowly reaches out and grabs a piece of toast. His eyes dart up to Clint, who pretends not to be watching him, and he stuffs it into his pocket before grabbing another one. Clint’s heart cracks a little bit, but he manages to keep the icy rage out of his voice when he says, “Take as much as you want, I don’t want any of it to go to waste.” 

The order seems to relax James and he starts to eat - slowly at first, but he gathers speed until he’s eaten nearly the entire table’s worth of food. And then he stares longingly at the last piece of bacon. “You want it?” He offers, clearly reluctantly.

“Why don’t we split it?” Clint says, and he rips the bacon in half and gives the bigger piece to James. “Man, that was pretty good. I’m full, you?”

James looks hesitant, almost like he doesn’t know what ‘full’ means, and Clint has to consciously relax his grip on his mug, lest he shatter it and draw attention. “I am functional,” James says, and Clint figures they can work on the difference between ‘full’ and ‘functional’ another time.

“Then let’s get movin’, ‘cause I don’t want to be here much longer than we have to.” Clint slides out of the booth and pays for their food, smiling at the waitress and tipping her generously.

“Destination?” James asks, following Clint out of the diner.

Clint shrugs. “Dunno. Was just gonna drive for a while, head back to New York eventually. You got any ideas?” James shakes his head and climbs into the truck silently. Clint starts the car and pulls out of the parking lot, heading in a vaguely east direction. The drive goes by with not a single word spoken between the two of them, and Clint keeps his mind occupied by tapping out the beat of a song he can’t  _ quite _ remember on the side of the car.

“What are you doing?” James breaks the silence between them and Clint jerks.

“Trying to remember some bit of music I heard somewhere, it’s bugging me,” Clint says, “I can stop if it’s bothering you.”

“Don’t,” James says suddenly, “It’s nice.” Clint shrugs and keeps tapping his fingers against the door, but eventually they get tired and he decides to turn on the radio.

He jabs at the power button and spins the tuner a few times, trying to find a decent station. “Ugh,” he huffs, “I can’t find anything. You try.” James reaches for the radio, tossing little glances at Clint like he thinks it’s a trick, and Clint  _ very carefully _ does not watch him fiddle with the radio until a halfway decent channel comes up, fading in and out through the static. “You can keep trying if you want,” Clint says, “Find something you like.”

James fiddles with the radio for a few minutes, eventually settling on some random channel that’s got a mix of everything. They settle into silence once again, the only noise being the sound of Clint’s quiet humming.

“Are you sleeping in the car tonight?” James asks suddenly. 

“No fuckin’ way,” Clint scoffs, “I ain’t twenty-five anymore. I’m grabbin’ a motel or somethin’ with the money I took from the safehouse and I’m gonna sleep on a real bed. You’re welcome to join me.”

James blinks at him. “In the motel?” 

Clint nods. “Money’ll last longer if we just get one room, so looks like we’re sharing for a bit until we figure out where we wanna go.”

“You stickin’ around, doll?” James says, a little smirk on his face - and then he blinks. 

Clint doesn’t draw attention to the fact that James probably just sounded like Bucky Barnes in the ’40s, nor does he draw attention to what he’s feeling at being called ‘doll’. “If you’ll have me. You’re decent company, and I can’t exactly go back to S.H.I.E.L.D., can I?” James shakes his head and spends the rest of the day staring out the window, watching the scenery drift by.

Clint makes a little note to himself to come out here more often - the view is incredible. Blue skies, beautiful rolling hills - reminds Clint of home. Well, the good bits anyway. 

“There’s a motel off the next exit,” James says suddenly, and Clint just barely catches a glimpse of the sign with the directions before it’s behind them. 

“Looks like we’re calling it a night, then,” Clint says. He pulls into the motel parking lot and pulls the keys out of the ignition. “You good to stay here while I get us a room?” James nods and Clint walks into the reception area. 

“Welcome to Sunset Motel, how can I assist you today?” The woman behind the desk drones, barely even looking up from her magazine.

“I need a room. Two beds, bathroom. One night only.”

“No rooms with two beds left,” she says. 

“Fine. One with a couch, then,” Clint rolls his eyes. He fucking hates motels.

“You’re in room fourteen, that’ll be seventy dollars.” Clint pays, grab the room key and walks away, making a face at the lady when he knows she can’t see him. “Bad news,” he says to James as he walks up to the car. “They had no rooms with two beds left, so I got one with a couch instead. I’ll take that, you can have the bed.”

“Shower?” James asks.

“In the room. C’mon, bein’ out in the open for this long makes me twitchy.” Clint grabs their bags and tosses James’ to him, then heads towards the room.

“What a shithole,” James says dryly when he opens the door, and Clint snorts.

“It’s got a lockable door and hot water, that’s all I care about right now,” Clint says, “Dibs on the first shower.” He heads into the bathroom and closes the door behind him, turning on the water and letting it run. Looking at himself in the mirror, Clint sighs. “What the fuck are you doing, Barton?” He asks himself. “Taking in the goddamn Winter Soldier. This is not one of your better ideas. Worth it, probably, but still. You’re an idiot.”

Pep talk complete, he pulls out his aids and hops in the shower, letting the water wash away the accumulated grime that comes from shitty safehouse water pressure and driving all day. This motel’s water pressure isn’t awful, and Clint probably stays in the shower longer than he should. When he gets out, he wraps a towel around his waist and opens the door to find James going through his duffel. “That’s not yours,” he says.

James jumps and looks up at him guiltily. “I didn’t mean to -”

“Yes, you did,” Clint cuts him off. “And it’s fine, there’s nothing in there I wouldn’t have shown you anyway. Next time, just ask, okay?” James nods and disappears into the washroom, and Clint valiantly tries to not think about water sluicing over his naked body, all wet and slippery and - yeah. He fails pretty miserably at not thinking about it. 

Clint’s just deaf, alright, he’s not blind. Objectively speaking, even when he looks like a greasy hobo, James is really fucking hot. Add that to the fact that Bucky Barnes was Clint’s bisexual wake-up call and, well, Clint might have a problem. He’s not going to  _ do _ anything about it, because that’s fuckin’ creepy as all hell, and - his train of thought is promptly derailed when James opens the bathroom door.

Towel slung low on his hips, he saunters (actually fucking  _ saunters _ ) out of the bathroom, still all shiny and damp from the water and flushed from the heat. Clint follows a drop of water from just below James’ ear down to his collarbone and does  _ not _ think how much he would like to follow it with his tongue.

“See somethin’ you like, sweetheart?” James drawls, smirking. Clint almost flushes - but then he sees the little glint in James’ eye and realizes that he’s  _ playing _ .

“Damn right I do,” Clint purrs, dropping his shirt onto the bed. He’s been standing with it in his hands since James went into the bathroom in the first place, which means he’s still wrapped in his towel. James blinks at him, clearly not expecting that response. Clint grins. “What? Expecting me to be all shy about it? I’m not ashamed of who I find attractive, and baby, I find  _ you _ attractive.”

It looks like James’ brain actually  _ shuts down _ for a few seconds, and Clint has to hold back his laughter. He stands by the bed, hip cocked out invitingly and towel dangerously close to falling away and revealing his half-hard dick.

“That’s okay now?” James asks suddenly. Looks like his brain is back online.

“What, liking men?” Clint asks. James nods. “Sure, it’s even legal for two guys to get married nowadays. Doesn’t mean everyone else is  _ okay _ with it, but at least I can walk along the street holding my guy’s hand and not get killed for it.”

“So I make you scream as loud as I want and there won’t be any trouble?” James grins, and Clint’s mouth goes dry. His knees wobble a little, and he’s suddenly achingly aware of the rough towel dragging along his dick. 

“Not from me,” he manages. James gets an intense look on his face and stalks over to him - and Clint has never felt more like prey than he does at this moment, and fuck is it ever doing things for him.

“Excellent,” James purrs, and then he’s kissing Clint like his life depends on it. There’s nothing Clint can do but open his mouth and take it, so that’s what he does. His hands fly to James’ shoulder and James backs him against the wall, licking into his mouth and swallowing his moans. 

“Holy shit,” Clint pants when James moves down to his neck and starts biting at it, “You done this before or somethin’?”

“Not in a long while, gorgeous,” James says, and his hips press forwards into Clint’s, startling a moan out of both of them.

“Fuck,” James groans.

“That’s the plan, babe.” He flips them onto the bed and straddles James, pulling both their towels away with one yank and tossing them away. 

“Ain’t got rubbers or slick,” James says, breaking off into a gasp when Clint spits into his hand and wraps it around them both.

“For what I got in mind, we don’t need ‘em,” Clint says, winking. Keeping a loose grip on both their dicks, he rolls his hips forwards and groans in concert with James as the resulting drag creates sparks behind his eyelids.

“Clint, fuck,” James gasps, eyes fluttering. Clint thrusts again and James does it as well this time, and the bump of their cocks together makes Clint bite out a curse. His concept of time goes hazy and his whole world becomes the points of contact between him and James, and the drag and slide of their dicks together. He doesn’t know how much time passes before his arousal pools and tightens in his gut. “‘M close, beautiful,” James breathes and Clint adds a little twist to his grip as their cocks hit the top of their thrust. 

James’ eyes flutter shut and he lets out a long, hoarse groan, and his dick jerks in Clint’s grip as it empties. Clint strokes once, twice, and the feel of James’ come slicking the way pushes him over the edge and he hunches over and comes onto James’ chest silently, mouth hanging open. He strokes himself through the aftershocks until it starts to become too much, and then he rolls off of James onto the bed, panting.

A few minutes pass in silence, the only sound being the sound of their breathing, and then James says, “I missed that - this.”

“What, sex?” Clint asks, and he climbs off the bed to get something to clean them up. 

“Well, yeah, but I always enjoyed what came after sex,” James says softly, “The intimacy of spending time with someone who just watched you fall apart.”

“Who knew you were a cuddler?” Clint asks jokingly as he comes back to the bed with some damp paper towels. He wipes himself off and then cleans James gently, tossing the towels into the trash and climbing back into the bed. “Well, I’m a cuddler too, so this works out well.”

James lifts his flesh arm and Clint drapes himself across James’ chest, grinning up at him. “And you’re okay with... this?” James asks, lifting his other arm. 

“It’s just an arm, James,” Clint says gently. He presses a kiss to the palm of it. “It’s done some terrible things, sure, but so have my arms. What’s important is what you decide to do with it  _ now. _ ”

James hums quietly and Clint lays his head down on James’ chest, listening to his heartbeat. “I’m probably going to fall in love with you,” he hears James say softly above him. “I was always quick to fall.”

“Looks like we have that in common then,” Clint murmurs, eyes drifting shut. He feels what could be a brush of lips over his forehead, and then he’s asleep, warm and comfortable and sated.

~~~~~~

James isn’t quite sure what he was expecting when he went to the safehouse. He knew Hydra was gone - that was clear enough from the helicarriers that were falling from the sky. But he also knew that he hadn’t been given any orders to follow after he was supposed to kill Captain America. 

And despite the  _ something _ that had awoken in him when he saw the man on the bridge, despite the way it was  _ screaming _ at him during the fight on the road, and despite the way it felt like that something beat its way out of his chest and into his head - even knowing that if he went back to Hydra they would make that something disappear... He went back anyway. 

He’s still not sure why he went back, sitting in this crappy truck days later and miles away. It could’ve been latent programming they jammed into his hole-filled brain, it could’ve been some perverse desire to just make the pain stop even if that meant going back into cryofreeze - he really doesn’t know. 

Whatever the reason, the bolt of warmth that shot through his core when Clint asked him if he was coming or not made him feel warm, and that was too good to pass up. He got the same feeling when Clint gave him the bigger piece of bacon, and again when he saw Clint staring at him when he got out of the first warm shower he’d had in decades.

He liked being warm, James decided, and if Clint made him feel warm then James was going to stick around until Clint got tired of him. Clint mutters something in his sleep and pushes closer to James’ chest, and James can feel his eyes getting heavier as he watches Clint sleep.

And he knows that he has to answer for his crimes as the Winter Soldier. He knows that the road ahead is going to be long and hard and painful. 

But as long as he has Clint to keep him warm, he can get through anything.


End file.
